


The Jeweler and the Treaty

by Lamplighter1890



Category: Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Crime Scenes, Gen, Murder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-07
Updated: 2018-11-07
Packaged: 2019-08-20 01:48:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16546478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lamplighter1890/pseuds/Lamplighter1890
Summary: An old school friend of Dr. Watson is in dire need of assistance, the type that only Sherlock Holmes can provide.  As Holmes and Watson work to solve this case, with its international consequences, Holmes also picks up the simple case of a stolen diamond ring. Our story bumps between the two cases as Holmes and Watson work to clear his friend and find the stolen ring!





	The Jeweler and the Treaty

**Author's Note:**

  * For [alexcat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alexcat/gifts).



> This story takes place within the ACD canon story "The Naval Treaty," where we get to learn some backstory on the thief and the possible involvement of London's more treacherous arch-criminals. Familiarity with that ACD story would be helpful to the reader but is not necessary as a summary is part of this tale. Simultaneously, Holmes and Watson take a case (that is my original fiction), and the reader will get to enjoy the two men bounce back and forth between investigations.

Chapter 1

  
June 15, 1889

The man named Toombs stopped at the top of the steps and paused in front of the heavy wooden doors that barred entry into the Anglo-Indian Club. The ornate mahogany doors had imagery of lotus flowers, elephant and tigers, carved along its frame and into its panels. Toombs reached out and touched the images with his remaining hand, and the smooth feel of the dark wood instantly took him back to an earlier time when the sights of a tiger and the smells of lotus and jasmine were not uncommon to him.

Toombs gathered himself, pushed open the heavy door and entered the club. The door did not slam but closed with an air of confidence and a sound of finality, as if it knew the quality and influence exerted by the men it admitted. Toombs stepped forward into the high ceilinged foyer and noted the smell of tobacco and aromatics. A large Bengal tiger had been mounted and was crouched to the left side of a podium that stood post in the center of the room. He thought that the tiger was beautiful but sad, as it was now cursed in perpetual and frozen fierceness, never again to show its quiet, patient, countenance displayed as it hunted.

“Yes Sir, may I be of assistance?” asked the Steward who made himself known as he stood behind the podium. The Steward was an older man who carried himself with military comportment, or perhaps he was merely a man who had served as a domestic for his entire life. He wore the livery of a house butler with a small brass elephant pin tacked onto his lapel.

Henry Toombs recognized that pin as a British Army collar badge designating service in India - except it looked smaller than army issue he thought, so perhaps it was jewelry made as a copy.

Toombs stepped forward, reached into his watch pocket and removed an item which he held out to the Stewart. The Stewart’s eyes never left Toombs’ face as he reached out and took the item from the man’s hand. Once in possession, the Stewart glanced down and recognized it as a well-worn silver Indian Rupee, ordinarily common enough in parts of London, except that this coin had a hole punched out of the center.

The Stewart’s eyes rose to again meet the Toombs’ only now they contained less apathy and question, both of which had been replaced with reluctant acceptance.

“Colonel Moran if you please” stated Toombs.

“This way Sir,” replied the Stewart, and he turned and led Toombs past the fearful tiger and through the open archway into a large lounge where several tables were occupied by men playing cards or reading the papers. Smoke floated about the room decorated with portraits of Queen Victoria and General Charles “Chinese” Gordon, a large set of elephant tusks, and a large tapestry of Hindi characters performing various tasks. Servants dressed in khaki stood by at the ready, linen towels over their forearms, and holding silver trays waiting for their next delivery of sherry or whiskey.

Toombs followed the Stewart to a table at the far side of the room where four men sat playing whist. He stopped several feet from the table and patiently waited until they completed their hand.

“Colonel - the gentleman is here to see you” stated the Stewart in a slightly embarrassed tone. Toombs picked up on the apologetic tone but felt no slight. It was simply a reflection of the truth in life: there were those who led, and those who were led, and the lower shalt not intrude upon the higher.

The man sitting at the far side of the table looked at the Stewart and gestured with an ever so slight nod, at which the Stewart turned and returned to his post. The Colonel stood and excused himself from the table, and suggested a short recess until he concluded his business. He nodded at Toombs to come with him, as he walked towards an unoccupied part of the large room where he stopped, removed a cigarette case and lit a cigarette. He did not offer one to Toombs, who took no offense.

The Colonel was a man of almost 50 years, still trim and fit, and full of military bearing and directness. But that was not what Toombs noticed first. When Moran stood and looked at Toombs, he immediately noticed that the Colonel was still a man not to be trifled with; his eyes still had the look of a man who could do unspeakable things at the drop of a hat.

“Colonel, I have something for you…something big.”

Moran looked at his former sergeant closely; he trusted Toombs, one of the few men he did trust because Toombs was loyal and was always willing to perform whatever task was required. This was only the second time that Toombs had come to him with information, therefore validating his trust because Toombs did not waste his time.

“Alright Toombs, what do you have?’ asked Colonel Sebastian Moran.

  
  


Chapter 2

  
July 27 - morning

It had been almost three months since Dr. John Hamish Watson had taken the hand of Miss Mary Morstan and as a result, had relinquished his residence at 221B Baker Street. The Watson’s had moved into a home in Kensington, and the Doctor started up a practice in Cleveland Square, Paddington. It was all sunshine and salad days for the newlyweds as Mrs. Watson set up their home and assisted her husband in decorating his office.

The good Doctor had only seen his former companion Sherlock Holmes once since the wedding, and that was in June when the great detective paid Dr. Watson a surprise visit, and they were off to Birmingham for an investigation. That was a nice reprieve for the Doctor, for truth be told, establishing the practice had been a slow and tiring process, as the previous physician had allowed it to decline as his health deteriorated.

It was now July, and fate had cast another mystery across the paths of Holmes and Watson and as such would draw them together in common cause.

Dr. Watson paused in front of the familiar front door, reaching for the knob but not grasping it, and looking at the brass numbers of 221B. He didn’t live here anymore. The residence was not his to enter, regardless of his prior familiarity, 221B was no longer his home. He rang the bell.

“Why Doctor Watson! What on Earth, why did you ring the bell?” asked a both delighted and surprised Martha Hudson.

“Mrs. Hudson, so happy to see you!”

“Please come in, come in… Mr. Holmes is in your flat.”

The Doctor smiled at her slip-up.

Doctor Watson tipped his bowler to Mrs. Hudson before removing it and walked up the familiar stairway to the parlor where he had experienced so much excitement and mystery. He suddenly felt less formal and more possessive of ownership, so he gave the door a quick courtesy rap, opened it, and walked into the parlor.

Holmes was in the center of the room, épeé in hand, standing in the en garde position, facing a women’s dressing mannequin.

“Ah Doctor, so good of you to come,” said Holmes as he simultaneously shuffled his right foot forward and thrust his blade into the mannequin’s right shoulder. “Help yourself to some sherry, and you know where the tobacco is kept, or my cigarette case is on the side table if you prefer,” as he stepped back and parried a nonexistent blade.

The Doctor retrieved a cigarette and settled into his old familiar chair as he watched his friend go through his fencing routine. Soon, he lost focus on what Holmes was doing and absently began to look about the room. Three months and nothing had really changed, as there were papers strewn about wanting organization, chemical experiments begging for completion, and newspaper clippings queued up and longing for assembly. Still, he missed it; the contradiction of a man so meticulous in his dress, manner, and method, yet so unkempt and unconcerned in other aspects of his life.

He finished his cigarette as Holmes was finishing off the mannequin, and was shortly thereafter joined by his friend, now armed with a pipe and whiskey.

“Doctor we have a rather trivial case before us, but as I am otherwise unoccupied, so this will have to do.” Holmes took a long drag from his pipe, crossed his legs and leaned to his left as he gave the Doctor the details of the case. A local jeweler had an expensive ring stolen from a display tray that had been locked in a safe, but there is no evidence of a burglary. The jeweler was not satisfied with the police's effort, so he sent a request to me."

“I am happy to come along, but I don’t really see how I can be of... "

“In the event, some form of medial malfeasance should surface, I could use the opinion of a good Doctor…do you know any?”

That drew a chuckle from the Doctor, as Holmes often quipped but rarely joked. And with that, the two men left Baker Street and took a cab to Fleet Street to meet with the despondent jeweler.  
  


 

Chapter 3

  
July 27

The cab delivered Holmes and Watson to Gregson’s Jewelry Shop where they met with the owner, Mr. Tobias Gregson. The shop was small but was well turned out, as Fleet Street catered to the wealthy citizens of London, and Mr. Gregson’s shop was no exception. A modest room furnished with a small table and two chairs, a counter with a glass display case and a backroom with working space for two jewelers assistants and a separate small enclosed office. A large safe was located in the office.

“Pray, proceed with your description of the events that have brought me here Mr. Gregson,” smartly said Holmes.

“Two days ago I brought out a display tray to show to a customer when I noticed that there was an odd looking ring on the tray. I picked up this ring and examined it and found it to be cheap theatre jewelry. It was sitting in place of a nice diamond ring that was now missing, and I have no idea where the missing ring is, or how this costume ring came into its place.”

“Where did you retrieve the tray from?” asked Holmes.

“Why, the safe of course," replied the elderly jeweler.

“And who knows the combination to that safe?”

“Only my son, Evan, and I. He is sitting in the back working at this minute… only he was away this past week in Portsmouth visiting his sister.”

“And you notified the police?”

“I did, to report the theft, and they said that they would look into it but since there wasn’t much to go on, that I would probably never see the case solved.” Mr. Gregson shook his head and assumed a bitter countenance as if he had taken a bite of something distasteful.

"And they did not take the costume jewelry ring with them?"

"No, they did not, all they took was my precious time" replied Mr. Gregson.

“How often do you remove the tray in question?” asked Holmes.

“That varies, as I may have need of it on a daily basis, or I might not show it for days on end, so it depends on the clients who come into the shop.”

“Please produce the tray and the cheap ring,” requested Sherlock.

Mr. Gregson excused himself and walked into the backroom of the shop, only to return with a tray approximately twelve inches by eight inches that was covered with bright red velour. The tray had 30 rings and small pins on it in three rows of eight and one row of six, which was at the bottom of the tray when displayed to a customer.

“What was the placement of the stolen ring and the location of the fake?”

The jeweler set the tray down on the counter, removed a pendant, then placed a ring in its place.

“This is the fake, and this is where I discovered it.”

Holmes removed the cheap costume ring and examined it carefully. He looked at the place it had occupied on the tray and went over the facts of the case again with Mr. Gregson.

“Do you recall anyone to whom you have shown the tray before your discovery? Someone, unusual, or interesting, or perhaps completely uninteresting?”

“There was a young Lord…Hamblin… Hamel… Hamilton, I think… who was very… choosey, and that’s what I remember about him. He purchased an engagement ring. There was a Gentleman who was shopping for a broach, or a pin, for his wife, but was unable to make a decision.”

“I see… anything or anyone else?” replied Holmes.

“Oh, there was a young couple, very excited, looking to purchase an engagement ring. Well, we didn’t have what they were looking for, so they contracted me to create a ring for them - they gave me a deposit.”

"What was to be the cost of the ring they wanted and what was the amount of deposit?" asked Holmes as he suddenly seemed to take a more attentive posture.

"The ring was to cost no more than 20, and they left me a three-pound deposit."

“Describe how they were dressed and what you mean by excited?”

“Oh, they were nicely dressed, a bit colorful and flamboyant, I suppose, but then that’s the fashion today, and they were talkative and laughing, and just very…well, excited.”

“Yes, I shall be back in contact with you within the week, and with good luck, I shall have recovered the stolen ring - may I keep this?” asked Holmes as he held up the cheap costume ring. The jeweler nodded his assent and Holmes abruptly turned and left the shop with a somewhat uncertain Watson in tow.  
  


 

Chapter 4

  
July 23

The Wyvern Pub was walking distance from Waterloo Station in Lambeth, which was very convenient for Mr. Joseph Harrison after his journey on the early afternoon train from Woking. Harrison was a commonly dressed man who considered himself better than the class of person drinking in the Wyvern. The irony is that he was more often than not found to be in the company of persons like the patrons at the Wyvern. Still, it wasn’t the quality of the Wyvern’s gin or porter that brought Harrison in from Woking; no, he was waiting for someone.

Harrison did not set this appointment, and as a result, he was nervous about the tone and direction the encounter may take. He certainly knew the reason for the meeting, but he had no answer for the question he knew would be asked.

It was half-three when Henry Toombs sat down in the chair opposite Harrison. A barmaid approached the table to see what the newcomer wanted to drink, but a look from Toombs and she decided to walk back to the bar and leave him alone.

“Have you got it?” asked Toombs. There was no point in nuance, as time was now an enemy and results were all that mattered.

Harrison, nervous and slightly intoxicated, looked at the man across the table and knew that he was almost out of time. Harrison had promised a significant item and his failure to deliver could, or more likely would result in his death.

“No Sir, I do not. His condition remains the same, and neither he nor my sister has left the room,” replied Harrison in an apologetic tone.

“I told you what will happen if you fail to retrieve the item soon - do you remember?”

Harrison swallowed hard, then took a drink of his beer, and keeping his eyes on the table nodded his understanding. A man who bullies others quickly recognizes when he is confronted by a stronger individual, and the great irony is how quickly he conforms to a state of resignation.

“I have developed a plan to get the item, even if Mr. Phelps still occupies the room,” quickly replied Harrison, hoping to satisfy Toombs of his commitment to complete the transaction.

“I better have it in less than a fortnight, or else I will handle it myself,” replied Toombs, who got up from the table and walked away without waiting for Harrison’s reply.

Joseph Harrison remained at the table and raised his hand for the barmaid as the alcohol was tamping down his desperation, and he had several hours before the late train returned him to Woking.   
  


 

Chapter 5

  
July 30

After several months of minimal contact between the two men, suddenly Holmes and Watson found themselves occupied together rather frequently (at least as their current association compared to the recent past). The previous day's post had brought a letter to Dr. Watson that was unexpected and triggered a new collaboration with Holmes. Watson saw his morning patients and left for Baker Street, advising his receptionist that he would be back for his afternoon appointments.

Mrs. Hudson was out for the morning, so as a result Holmes was compelled to answer the front door. The fact that it was Dr. Watson immediately improved Holmes’ apparently foul demeanor at having to see to the doorbell, and after greeting his friend, the two men bounded up the stairs to discuss Watson’s proposal.

Doctor Watson made tea as Holmes read the letter received by Watson the previous day. As was his wont, he finished reading and proceeded to examine the paper and envelope by feel and with his glass.

Watson served the tea and noted that there were newspapers strewn all about the apartment. He picked up The Times and noted it was today’s, as was The Standard, The Globe, and four or five other London dailies.

“Holmes, clearly you are onto something, as you seemingly have a copy of every paper in London on the floor.”

Ignoring Watson's observation, Holmes turned the letter over in his long, nimble fingers, before he set it aside and picked up his tea. “Ah, nothing escapes the untrained eye; I was searching for something that might impact the case of our friend the jeweler of Fleet Street, and I believe that I have found it.”

“I have prepared a telegram for Lestrade requesting the Inspector to contact all the jewelers in Westminster to ascertain if a well-dressed man had attempted to sell a woman’s ring during the past week. The man would have been in during morning hours and will say that it was left to him from his aunt and he needed the money to purchase an engagement ring, which he would buy from the same shop.”

Watson sipped his tea and waited to see if Holmes would expound on his statement; which he did not, still, secrecy and mystery were familiar bedfellows in their relationship.

“What do you think about my letter from Percy?” interjected Watson.

Holmes proceeded to state that the letter had been written by a woman of character who is no doubt a confidant of Watson’s friend Mr. Phelps. The details of the case and the nature of the scribe interested him immensely, and he announced, to Watson’s surprise, that he intended to take the late morning train to Woking and hoped that the Doctor would accompany him.

They decided to finish their tea before setting out, but they were interrupted by a knock at the door and the entrance of Mrs. Hudson, who had returned from her errands.   
  
“Mr. Holmes, your ragamuffin is here for you,” stated Mrs. Hudson in a tone not stripped of disapproval.

In walked Wiggins, the young street urchin employed by Holmes to perform acts of observation and intelligence all throughout London. The scruffy boy doffed his cap and smoother his hair, “Good morning Sir, I came as quick as you like once I got the word.”

“Yes Wiggins, I have an important errand of spy craft for you that will take several days; here, my instructions are contained in this note,” and Holmes handed the boy a sealed envelope.

“I will be away from Baker Street for a day - perhaps more. I will send you word where to contact me if you gather the information I seek. Here is your fee up front, with some additional coin to cover a telegram.”

“Yes Sir, Mr. Holmes, I’ll see to it right away,” and with that, he turned and ran from the room. Mrs. Hudson followed the dirty youth shaking her head.

Shortly after that, the two men left Baker Street and caught a train at Waterloo Station which had them in Woking by lunchtime. Holmes had sent a telegram ahead to prepare Mr. Phelps for their arrival. In Woking, they hired a local farmer to drive them out to the Phelps home, which turned out to be a pleasant ride through the Surrey countryside.

Holmes and Watson had just entered the front garden gate when they were met by a jovial man of near forty years, who introduced himself as Joseph Harrison. He was not a member of the family, but his sister Annie was engaged to Mr. Phelps. He had received the telegram and Percy was extremely anxious to meet with them. So, Mr. Harrison led them into the home where they met with Mr. Percy Phelps and Ms. Annie Harrison and thus was to learn the details of Phelps’ predicament.

Mr. Phelps is a clerk in the Foreign Office and was preparing a copy of an important naval treaty involving the alliance between England, France, and Italy when a series of events led to its theft. The stolen document falling into the wrong hands could cause an international fiasco and the ruination of Mr. Phelps’ career.

The theft had occurred some nine weeks previously, but there had been no hint of the stolen treaty’s whereabouts or clue that it had fallen into the hands of a foreign power. Mr. Phelps had been in an absolute state of delirium since the theft and had been confined to the parlor as a sick room.

Mr. Harrison had excused himself for the room after showing in Holmes and Watson, but he secreted himself outside an open window in the garden and thus was able to hear the entire conversation. After hearing Holmes’ line of questioning, the thief Harrison knew that he had to do something to retrieve the document, which he had hidden inside Mr. Phelps sick room. The insertion of Holmes into the issue coupled with Toombs impatience now set Harrison on edge and filled him with a need to do something rash.

  
***

Young Wiggins laughed when he read the instructions from Mr. Holmes, and said cheerily that this will be a lark. He made his way from Baker Street to a hangout in Soho through the crowded streets of London, both running and utilizing the rear luggage platform on omnibuses to catch free rides. He would need some help, so he had to round up some of his mates for this job.

So, a few hours later, accompanied by two of his younger charges, Wiggins made his way to Hyde Park, the current temporary home of the Britannia Traveling Circus. The boys came upon the park via Kensington Road, and there, on the old football pitches on South Carriage Drive was a row of colorful tents, each with banners flying from their main poles, and just beyond these was a huge striped tent.

“C’mon lads, we are going to the circus,” smiled Wiggins as the boys ran across Kensington Road towards a whole world full of new sights, smells, and opportunities.  
  


 

Chapter 6

  
July 31

Holmes and Watson returned to London the evening of the 30th, then took the morning train back to Woking the following day. After meeting with Mr. Phelps and his sister, it was decided that Holmes, Watson, and Phelps would return to London that afternoon to continue the investigation and that in their absence, Mrs. Harrison would remain in the sick room, without fail.

That is what was decided, but that is not in fact what occurred. At the train station, Holmes advised his companions that he would in fact not be traveling to London with them and that they will go to Baker Street and await his arrival, probably on the morrow. Both Watson and Phelps were surprised, which added to that the fact that Mr. Phelps was thoroughly confused, but Watson had experienced Holmes’ change of play before and was non-plussed by the new plan.

Holmes suspected Harrison to be the thief, as he had learned that Harrison was in London the evening of the theft and was to join Percy on the train back to Woking. He had also learned from Inspector Forbes that Harrison had a reputation and a record, thereby providing opportunity and poor character as strikes against him. The fact that the treaty has not surfaced as of yet in the international community suggested that a buyer or a payoff has not been located, which made the possibility of Harrison hiding the document in the sick room all the more probable.

Holmes had decided to stay in Woking and to observe the sick room from outside the house, and he was sure that Harrison would make his move to recover the document now that the three men had left.

Upon departing from Dr. Watson and Mr. Phelps, Holmes walked through the small village of Ripley where he stopped for breakfast at “The Swan Inn.” Holmes had a considerable amount of time to kill and some additional business he could attend to, as he was still engaged in the matter of the stolen ring from the jeweler of Fleet Street.

He dispatched telegrams to Lestrade and Mrs. Hudson (she was to contact Wiggins) to have any information sent to him via the constabulary office in Woking.

Holmes packed some sandwiches while at the Inn and eventually headed out toward the Phelps’s home and his anticipated rendezvous with the thief.

Joseph Harrison was desperate, and he knew that tonight, with Phelps in London with Holmes, was his best opportunity to retrieve the document. He decided to repeat his attempted burglary since his sister locked the door to the stick room whenever she left.

He waited until late, well after midnight, as the household would be into a deep sleep at this time. He donned his dark hooded cloak and his knife, and made his way around the house until he reached the side window to the sick room. He jimmied the windows and made his entry, then as quiet as a mouse he pulled up the carpet and a loose floorboard, thereby revealing his hiding place. He reached down below the floor and retrieved the rolled up document, then carefully returned board and carpet to their proper condition.

He was so overcome with joy and relief that he could hardly contain himself. He placed the document in his cloak and climbed back out the window, pulling the window closed behind him, he couldn’t believe that it came off just like he had planned.

With one exception, as a single pair of eyes watched him from the bushes; he hadn’t planned on being caught, particularly by a detective he thought was in London.   
  


 

Chapter 7

  
August 1

Watson had awoken early and decided to check on his friend Mr. Phelps and ascertain if he had slept well, or required anything, because his nervous condition may react poorly in a new environment. Phelps had not slept well and was concerned about Holmes and any actions he may take by himself. Watson reassured him that Holmes was very capable and insisted that Percy join him for breakfast.

It was at breakfast that Holmes arrived at Baker Street and surprised Mr. Phelps with the recovered naval treaty. After their brief celebration, they settled down to breakfast as Holmes illustrated how he recovered the document and that Percy’s future brother-in-law, Joseph Harrison, was the thief. There was both surprise and sadness on Phelps’s part, as the discovery of betrayal within one’s own family, or near family, must always come as a shock.

Holmes lit up a cigarette, and while he sat lounging in his chair, with his legs hung over one arm as he leaned back on the other, he explained with some regret that Harrison got away; but, Inspector Forbes and Scotland Yard have the details and will run him down.

“Watson, our day has just begun, as we will escort Mr. Phelps to the Foreign Office, and then we will turn our attention to the jewelry theft, as the information I had requested has come through,” and with that he tossed his cigarette into the fireplace and jumped up with surprising vitality for a man who had been awake all night.

It was a short cab ride to the Foreign Office, and once a grateful Mr. Phelps and his treaty were secured safely inside, Holmes and Watson headed off to Hyde Park for a rendezvous with Wiggins. They found him just south-west of the circus, standing out of the way and smoking his pipe.

“G’morning Mr. Holmes…Doctor, Sir” said Wiggins, as he respectfully doffed his cap.

“Good morning Wiggins, pray to tell me what you have for me this morning,” responded Holmes.

“Well Sir, I done like you asked, we snuck in the circus and found the two you want - we watched their act and they was good Sir, I must admit!”

Holmes simply smiled and nodded at this embellishment, as boys should be boys.

“Well Sir, then we located the tent and stayed on them, all night, and sure enough, the next morning they went out, dressed just as pretty as you please and straight to Westminster and jewelry stores - just like you said they would.”

“Did you take note of the shops?”

“Yes Sir, here it is,” and Wiggins handed Holmes a dirty, wrinkled piece of paper. Holmes quickly looked at it and smiled.

“But wait Sir, they are out right now and my boy Blinky is on them… they should be back soon because their first performance is early afternoon.”

“Excellent work Wiggins, the Doctor and I will be at that pub across the way until Blinky arrives, you will then come to find us and update me on their activities this morning.”

It wasn’t more than an hour later when Wiggins came into the pub armed with fresh information on the performers morning activities. Holmes bought Wiggins a pint and paid him for the work of his partners, then hurried out the door with Watson and hailed a cab.  
  


 

Chapter 8

  
August 1 - late afternoon

The Amazing Mysterio and his assistant finished their afternoon performance and made their way back to their tent only to be surprised by three men waiting inside.

“Who the bloody hell are you?” said "The Great Mysterio, Master of Magic and that Arcane Arts," a man more commonly known as Clive Silverton. The Great Mysterio puffed himself up with defiant bravado as he faced the strangers.

“I am Sherlock Holmes, this is my associate Dr. Watson, and this stern looking gentleman is Inspector Lestrade of the Metropolitan Police.”

This introduction had a deflating effect upon Mr. Silverton as his demeanor became smaller and less confrontational. His assistant, a pretty young woman of say twenty or twenty-one years, started to back out the tent opening but was stopped as a thick-chested constable had taken up a position in the doorway.

“How may I assist you, gentlemen? An autograph perhaps?”

“Perhaps not an autograph, but you can be of some assistance Mr. Silverton, you see we are interested in jewelry, as I understand you are as well,” replied Holmes with the slightest of smiles.

  
***

August 1 - Evening

It was the end of a long day, a very long day for Sherlock Holmes, but one of the most satisfying of his career, as he had solved two cases in the same day, one of which was of critical importance to national security. They were required to spend a little more time at the circus with Lestrade as Silverton initially feigned ignorance, but a search of his personal items soon revealed several pieces of women’s jewelry that matched descriptions obtained by Lestrade of newly stolen items. With this discovery, Silverton confessed to the thefts and having already fenced Jeweler Tobias Gregson's stolen ring, so Lestrade put the couple in cuffs and took them off to jail.

Holmes and Watson returned to Baker Street where they relaxed with whiskey and pipe smoking as Mrs. Hudson prepared a late meal.

“Now Holmes, you must outline your reasoning on what on earth led you to circus performers as the jewelry thieves,” stated the Doctor with anticipation. Watson noticed that his whiskey was particularly satisfying within the confines of his old residence.

“Quite Watson, as you recall there were no signs of a break-in at Gregson’s jewelers, and a valuable ring was swapped with a cheap one - why? To buy time for the thief and to cast doubt on their identity. By the time jeweler noticed, perhaps a day later, perhaps longer, he might have shown that tray to several other customers. Therefore the method was obvious; the use of sleight-of-hand, or the quick-switch, was employed by a skilled thief, and this is particularly obvious when you consider the ring's location on the outside edge of the tray.”

“Yes, that seems reasonable, but again, what led you to the circus?”

“The quick-switch is a theft that could have been perpetrated by any number of London’s street criminals, but such shabby crooks could never have gained the confidence of the jeweler in such an establishment, so these were thieves that could play into a higher class. When Gregson described the laughing young couple in bright fashionable clothes, I immediately became suspicious. The use of laughter and demonstration would work well as a distraction to perpetuate the theft, and their wardrobe told me that he was not a gentleman, but instead, the flamboyance of their attire suggested actors or performers.”

Holmes relit his pipe and got up paced about the room, as he unrolled his explanation for the Doctor.

“Thus, I scoured the newspapers for an advertisement about a new play, or a new troupe of performers, when I saw the ad for the circus. Clearly, a magician fit the profile of our thief, as they are practiced in diversion, deceit, and sleight-of-hand. I employed Wiggins and his gang to find and follow our two magicians and to take note of the shops they entered, then I sent Lestrade notice to begin checking with the other jewelers in Westminster to see if they had been visited by the same couple, probably during the morning hours since the circus started its performances in the afternoon. They would have been looking to buy, sell or both, as I was quite sure they would steal from one shop and sell to another under the guise of it being a family heirloom. The three-pound deposit was a nominal loss compared with the price they could get upon selling it to a fence or another jeweler.”

A quiet knock and Mrs. Hudson entered carrying a tray which she set on the table.

“Ah, Mrs. Hudson, your cuisine is a sight for famished eyes, and we thank you greatly for your attentiveness,” said Holmes with an unexpected flourish before he continued.

“Well, Holmes at times you quite astound me, as your method employs both deduction and presumption.”

“Quite Doctor.”

The two men were quiet as they enjoyed their Salsbury Steak and potatoes.

“Watson, I had forgotten, there is one more piece of information regarding the case with your friend Mr. Phelps. I had stated that the thief Harrison had gotten away and that I had notified the police. Well, I recovered this slip of paper from Harrison (Holmes held up a small note), and it states ‘Thursday - HT.’ Now, if I am not mistaken, ‘HT’ could be Henry Toombs, a thug who works with Colonel Moran. So, if our friend Harrison failed Moran, and as a result, Dr. Moriarty, he has more significant concerns than capture by the police.”

Holmes smiled after this statement, and Watson raised his glass in simple acknowledgment of the two paths of judgment awaiting Mr. Harrison.

As they returned to their meals, Watson glanced around the parlor, taking in the familiar decor of the chairs they occupied when hearing tales of amazement, the creature comforts of the Persian slipper tobacco pouch, the pipe stand, and the whiskey set. He smiled as he thought that no matter the address of his residence, this flat will always be his home; just as a man feels about the home of his youth.

"I quite agree, Doctor," said Holmes breaking the spell.  "You're feeling nostalgic and rightfully so."

Watson looked across at his friend in amazement, shocked at the man's apparent ability to read minds.

"Yes Holmes, I certainly am... and with all the excitement of this week, I wonder if this was our last hurrah and our adventures together have finally concluded?"

"As to our partnership, I shall put your uncertainty to rest, for an extremely reliable source advised me that we are - and I quote - a "hard act to follow," stated Holmes rather matter of factly.

"Really... who's your source?" replied a surprised John Watson. 

"Why none other than the Great Mysterio" said Holmes.

 

***


End file.
